


The World on Our Shoulders

by Lynx22281



Series: From the House on Maple Lane [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief mention of male lactation, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Pregnant Castiel, Traumatic birth, mpreg!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nineteen-year-old Dean tries to deal with the emotional turmoil after Claire's birth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World on Our Shoulders

Dean banged his head back hard against the rusted door of an old ’57 Buick.  He blew a harsh breath out into the frigid mid-February air, watching as the puff of steam dissipated into the night.  Never in his life had he felt so completely useless.  Two of the most important people in his life were suffering.  It was all his fault and there was nothing he could do to fix it.  He couldn’t even make it marginally better.

 

He went motionless at the sound of footsteps swishing through the dead, overgrown grass growing up between the stacks of partially demolished cars in the scrapyard. 

 

“Dean?” He heard Sam call tentatively from just a few feet away.  It was too much for him to hope to have just a few minutes alone to himself, especially when his little brother knew all of his hiding spots.  “I uh…I saw you pull in earlier.  Thought you might be out here when you didn’t come in the house.  Bobby wants to know if you want dinner.”

 

“Nah.  Ate at the hospital,” he replied, not getting up.  Technically it wasn’t a lie.  He had eaten at the hospital – a candy bar and a soda from the vending machine about four hours ago.  It was all he could afford with the loose change in his pockets besides the mediocre free coffee out in the NICU waiting room.

 

The footsteps came closer, scuffling and slightly off-rhythm like the kid still hadn’t quite figured out how to get his long, gangly limbs to work in tandem.  With a huff, Sam dropped down on the cold ground next to Dean.  “How’s Claire?”

 

“She’s fine, I guess,” Dean said, shrugging.  “They said she gained a couple of ounces since yesterday.  They finally got her to finish a whole bottle this afternoon.”

 

“That’s good, right?  Any word on when she gets to come home?”

 

Dean just shrugged again.  He didn’t want to think about his little girl, all alone in the NICU, where he’d had to leave her because the nurses were all sticklers for escorting the visiting moms and dads out of the nursery at six o’clock on the nose so their babies could rest.  Her head was still bruised from the forceps the doctor delivered her with five days ago.  The nurses tried to cover up the worst of the contusions on her scalp with a tiny knit hat, but Dean knew the yellowing bruises were there.  Her pitiful cries still rang in his ears.  He’d heard babies cry before, but Claire didn’t cry because she was hungry or wet; she cried because she was in pain.  He couldn’t do anything more than stick his hand in the incubator and let her latch onto his finger with her wrinkly little fist.  The nurses assured him that he could hold her, but the one time he’d tried, she had cried so loud and turned so red in the face that he quickly asked them to put her back in the crib.  He was an awful father.

 

He jerked when he felt Sam’s arms come around his middle.

 

“She’ll be ok,” Sam said firmly.  “Cas will too.”

 

Dean’s lower lip started trembling at the mention of Cas, who was curled up in a miserable ball in the middle of the lumpy mattress on the floor of the tiny apartment over the garage attached to Bobby’s house.  Who Dean had abandoned all day while he worked his morning shift at Bobby’s shop and then spent the afternoon at the hospital sitting in a hard plastic chair next to Claire’s bassinet, doing nothing but staring at her while she slept or fidgeted uncomfortably amongst wires and tubes connecting her to the monitors and poles outside of the incubator.

 

"It's not ok, Sammy,” he mumbled, turning his face into his brother’s shaggy hair as the tears started to drop.  “It’s all my fault.  This…it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

 

Sam’s arms tightened around him, but he didn’t say anything.

 

“Cas’s supposed to be at Columbia right now, studying until his ears bleed ‘cause he’s gotta keep a perfect GPA for his scholarships.  He’s supposed to come home on the weekends and have his family be so proud of him, ‘cause he’s working so hard.  He’s not supposed to be living in this shithole because his parents turned their backs on him.  He’s not supposed to be taking a semester off from community college so he could have our baby.  Claire and Cas were supposed to come home together.  This wasn’t supposed to happen to her.  She was fine.  She was healthy before she was born.  Now she’s hurting and she’s not even a week old.  All she knows is pain.  Cas hasn’t even gotten to hold her yet.”  He paused, choking on the sob he was trying so hard to keep down.  “I have no idea how to pay the hospital bill.  We don’t have that kind of money.  Bobby doesn’t have that kind of money.  I don’t know what to do, Sammy.  I don’t know…” 

 

There was more, but he couldn’t go on.  Sam just held onto him while Dean blubbered against his shoulder.

 

When Dean finally calmed down, Sam said, “Bobby called Mr. Hamilton to let him know that you wouldn’t be able to work your shift at the store tonight.”

 

Dean shook his head as he sat up, running his hands over his wet face in a half-hearted attempt to erase the tears he couldn’t hide anymore.  He’d already missed four of his scheduled shifts this week at the mom and pop market down the street.  Tonight was supposed to be his overnight shift restocking shelves.  While his boss was an understanding man, he wasn’t going to tolerate Dean not showing up for work much longer.  “I gotta go in.  Need the money.”

 

“No, Dean.  Stay home tonight.  Go be with Cas.  You need each other right now.”  Sam looked at him through his bangs.  “Let me and Bobby help out.  I can babysit, well, not right now, obviously, but when she comes home.  And, I have some money if you guys need it for baby stuff or whatever.”

 

“No, man.  It’s your money, keep it.”  The last thing he wanted his little brother to do was to start making sacrifices for him.  He was supposed to take care of Sam, not the other way around.

 

“Yeah, it’s my money and I can do whatever I want with it.  I want to give it to you.  Plus, I…um…I got a job,” he confessed quietly.

 

“Sammy, we already talked about this.  You need to focus on school and your extracurricular stuff, not worry about a job.”  Sam had been trying to get a job ever since he was twelve, but Dean had always been against it.  As long as Dean could work, even just part time while he himself had still been in high school, then Sam wouldn’t have to.  He could make sure Sam had money for movie tickets, field trips, and whatever extra stuff he wanted so they didn’t have to be such a burden on Bobby.

 

“I already talked to Mrs. Moore, my guidance counselor.  She said a part-time job would look good on my college applications as long as I was able to keep my grades up.  Having a job will be no different than playing sports or being in a club.  I’m old enough to help out more,” Sam declared.

 

“Your grades are what’s gonna get you into a good college.  You already help out enough by doing your chores and helping out at the shop.”

 

“Yeah, but I can do more.  I want to do more,” he pleaded.  “Bobby said it was ok, too.  I think he was just glad I didn’t want a raise on my allowance.”

 

"Ok, fine,” Dean finally conceded.  Bobby’d probably be more than happy to pass some of the grocery bill over to the kid with the bottomless pit for a stomach.  “So where are you working?”

 

“Mr. Hamilton gave me some hours at the store after school and on the weekend.”

 

“Is that why he hasn’t fired me yet?”  Dean snorted softly. 

 

Sam shrugged.   “He said he didn’t care which of us was working as long as the register was covered and the shelves were stocked.”

 

“He’s not stiffing you on pay since you’re not even fifteen yet, is he?”

 

“Nope.  He’s paying me the same thing he pays you.”

 

“Good.”  It didn’t really make Dean feel better about Sam having a job, but at least the kid wasn’t getting paid less to do the same work.  And, if Sam was so hell-bent to have a job, then he picked a decent place to get hired.  Mr. Hamilton was a great boss who looked after his handful of employees like they were his own family.

 

"Can we go inside now?  I’m freezing my nuts off.”  Sam shivered and pulled his black hoodie closer around his thin frame.

 

“Yeah, c’mon.”  Dean stood up, hauling his brother to his feet.  Sam was very nearly as tall as he was.  Dean had a feeling that his little brother would be taller than him by the end of the year, and was not looking forward to that happening.

 

Back at the house, Sam convinced Dean to come in and have dinner with him and Bobby – the old man had made a lasagna, Dean’s favorite.  Cas was sitting at the table with his back to the door when the brothers walked into the kitchen.  The cordless phone was propped between his shoulder and ear as he hugged himself.  Dean could see his shoulders hitching softly and rushed over to his side.

 

“Yeah…ok.  Thanks, Mom,” Castiel whispered into the phone.  “I love you, too.”

 

Dean looked up, wide-eyed, as Bobby came to stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, propping his hip against the doorjamb.  The older man nodded softly, his moustache twitching with a slight smile.

 

Cas pulled the phone away from his ear and leaned back as Dean enveloped him in a tight hug.

 

“Everything alright, son?” Bobby asked.

 

He wiped at his eyes and nodded.  “My parents…they’re going to pay the hospital bill for us.  Mom said she…,” he sniffled, “she went to see Claire this morning and she said she’s sorry they kicked me out.  They want to help.”

 

Dean didn’t know whether he should be angry or relieved.  Cas’s parents had cut him off completely in July when he told them he was pregnant.  He’d invited them to the ceremony at the courthouse when he and Dean had gotten married in September, but they hadn’t shown up, hadn’t even sent a card in the mail acknowledging the wedding.  None of the Miltons showed up for the baby shower last month either.  Dean had left a message for Cas’s parents when Cas went into labor, but then hadn’t heard from them at all afterwards.  In the turmoil following Claire’s birth, he hadn’t even bothered to contact them with an update on how Cas and the baby were doing.

 

“I want to go back to bed,” Cas murmured.

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, Cas,” Dean said, helping him to his feet.

 

“Me n’ Sam’ll bring you boys some dinner in a few minutes, ok?” Bobby offered, heading towards the oven to pull out a casserole dish.

 

“Thank you, Bobby,” Cas said with a tiny smile as he limped over to the stairs leading to the garage apartment, tucked in close to Dean’s side.

 

After a slow trek up the stairs, Dean helped Cas over to the mattress in the corner of the room closest to the old radiator, where the air was warmest.  The crib stood on the other side of the radiator, patiently waiting for Claire’s arrival home.  Its only occupant at the moment was a floppy, stuffed dog that Sam had bought for the baby several months ago.

 

“S’good to see you downstairs again,” Dean said as he pulled the blankets up over Cas’s pajama covered legs.  Cas hadn’t been out of bed longer than to shuffle to the bathroom since he’d come home from the hospital two days ago.  The nerve damage to his left hip made moving around very painful, but Dean also suspected that Cas simply lacked the will to do anything other than sleep.  The nurses warned him that leaving Claire at the hospital would be very hard on Castiel when he was discharged without her.  Cas had cried for hours yesterday when his milk came in and he didn’t have a baby to nurse.  He didn’t even have a pump to ease the ache and collect the milk to store for when Claire finally came home. 

 

Cas sighed and turned over onto his side, facing the wall.

 

“Claire was doing better today,” Dean started quietly as he stood up to go into the tiny bathroom.  He didn’t close the door while he washed his face in an attempt to get some of the hospital smell off of his skin.  Cas didn’t say anything, but Dean didn’t expect him to.  Dean had been giving him updates after every visit to the NICU, though Cas rarely ever acknowledged any of the information.  “They’re starting to dial back her pain meds and she’s back up to her birth weight.  Carmen thinks that if she keeps eating like she should, then the doctor will let her come home this weekend.”

 

Dean flicked off the bathroom light just as Sam and Bobby came up the stairs bearing plates of food. 

 

“You boys need anything?”  Bobby asked as he set one plate of lasagna and a basket of garlic bread down on the small card table set up as a makeshift dining table near the mini-fridge and sink on the opposite side of the room from the bed.  Sam set down a second plate and a bowl of salad.

 

Dean glanced over to Cas who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed, shaking his head.  “We’re good.  Oh, wait.  Sam, will you run out to the car and get the bag from the back seat?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied catching the keys when Dean tossed them his way before he and Bobby headed back downstairs.

 

Dean busied himself with adding salad to one of the plates, digging in the bowl to find all of the grape tomatoes and black olives, before taking it over to the bed and kneeling down.  “Did you eat lunch?”

 

“Bobby won’t let me have my pain pills if I don’t eat,” he groused, slowly turning over and carefully pushing up to sit at the head of the bed.  Dean could clearly see that the motion was causing him discomfort.  Cas held his hands out for the plate.  “The faster I eat, the sooner I can have my pill and go back to sleep.”

 

Dean nodded and handed off the plate as Sam came pounding up the steps with a navy blue canvas bag in hand.  “Thanks, Sammy.”

 

“No problem.  If you need anything else, just call down the stairs.  I’ll be in the kitchen doing my homework.”  He passed the bag over to his brother before giving Cas a little wave and leaving them alone.

 

“What’s that?” Cas asked, not looking up from shoveling lasagna into his mouth.

 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he hung the bag on the knob of the bathroom door and then went to sit at the table where his plate waited.  “Uh…breast pump.  Carmen said pumping would help,” he motioned to his own chest, at a loss for words to explain what the nurse had told him about engorgement.  “There are some bottles in there too.  She said you can pump and they’ll supplement Claire’s formula with your milk.  It’ll…um…be good for her, I guess.”

 

Cas speared a tomato with his fork before eyeing the bag warily.  “We can’t afford one.”

 

“Nah, this one isn’t new.”  He quickly shook his head at Cas’s look of disgust.  “No, no…it’s the demo model the nurses used to show new parents how it works.  Nobody’s actually… _used_ …it.  They got a new one and were just going to throw this one out, but Carmen saved it for us.  It works like it should.”

 

“Oh,” he responded blandly, turning his attention back to his dinner.

 

They were both quiet for a while, each of them focusing on their food.  It had been this way ever since Cas had come home from the hospital.  He didn’t seem to want Dean’s company, though he never asked him to go away.  Dean still slept in their bed, but Cas stayed on the far side of the mattress claiming that he needed the space to keep his hip from hurting.  He didn’t know what to do for Cas, how to make him feel better, how to take away his sad, how to make up for the fact that their newborn hadn’t left the hospital yet. 

 

He felt guilty when he was at work because he wasn’t with Cas or Claire; felt guilty when he was at the hospital with Claire because he wasn’t at home with Cas; felt guilty when he was home with Cas because he wasn’t at the hospital with Claire.  He was living in a vicious cycle of guilt that he had no way of attaining absolution from.

 

Dean didn’t realize he’d been picking at his food until an empty plate came into his peripheral vision. 

 

“Are…are you gonna finish that?” Cas asked quietly, pointing at the remainder of his lasagna with his fork.

 

“No, go ahead.”  Dean pushed the plate over while Cas lowered himself carefully into the folding chair on the other side of the table.  At least Cas was eating.

 

“I…um…I want to go see Claire with you tomorrow,” he murmured softly before taking his first bite.

 

Dean perked up immediately.  “Yeah, sure.  Great.  Um…I’ll see if Bobby’ll let me switch shifts at the shop.  She’s more awake in the mornings, and we can give her breakfast and lunch, and be there when the doctor makes his rounds, and you can meet Layla, she’s Claire’s favorite nurse…”

 

Cas reached across the table to take Dean’s hand, effectively cutting off his ramble.  He didn’t say anything, just held Dean’s hand loosely while he finished scraping the plate clean.  When he was finished eating, he swallowed down the pill Bobby had left on the table for him and then silently pulled Dean to his feet, dragging him around the room to turn off the lights before leading him to their bed. 

 

They curled up together under the mound of blankets that Cas had acquired over the winter.  If Bobby ever wondered where all his extra blankets had disappeared to, Dean was sure he’d find them on top of the old mattress they called a bed.  Cas took a few minutes to get himself situated before he settled on his right side and scooted back until his back was firmly pressed to Dean’s front.  Dean was so thrown off by the sudden change that he didn’t move until Cas groped around to find his hand and pull it over his side so he could tuck Dean’s fist under his chin.  Dean melted against Cas’s back, burying his nose in the messy hair at the base of Cas’s neck.  He smelled like grapefruit shampoo and home.

 

“I love you,” Dean whispered.

 

“I know,” Cas whispered back, tilting his head to press a soft kiss against Dean’s knuckles.

 

“We’ll be ok, right?”

 

Cas sighed and was quiet for several long seconds before he breathed softly, “I hope so.”

 

 


End file.
